


Love was Never a Static Place of Rest

by Dellessa



Series: Surviving the Revolution [3]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Dubious Consent, Lima Syndrome, M/M, Mech Preg, Multi, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 21:33:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3091013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dellessa/pseuds/Dellessa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jazz trundled along behind Megatron, leash slack between them as the warlord walked through the slave market. The Lord High Protector frequented it often, looking over the mechs but he had never purchased one, much to Jazz’s relief. He hated this place. Hated what it reminded him of. They would live their life in seeming peace, and then Megatron would drag him right back to this hell hold to see how horribly his people were treated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jazz trundled along behind Megatron, leash slack between them as the warlord walked through the slave market. The Lord High Protector frequented it often, looking over the mechs but he had never purchased one, much to Jazz’s relief. He hated this place. Hated what it reminded him of. They would live their life in seeming peace, and then Megatron would drag him right back to this hell hold to see how horribly his people were treated. 

Then the warlord would wonder why Jazz would sulk for sols on end afterwards with little piece of his normally jovial self. It made him want to hit Megatron....again. It had helped little the first time, and he doubt it would do any better this time. 

He looked around. It still surprised him that the slaves were all in such good condition. He knew that Megatron had set strict decrees about the treatment and care of the captive population. He had been sitting at Megatron’s peds listening when he had set much of the laws...but it still surprised him. He did not understand these mechs. He did not even understand Megatron for all the time they had spent together, in the berth and out. 

Jazz’s attention fell on one of the mechs standing on the platform. He was beautiful, all white plating, and clean lines. Jazz could tell he had been a Praxian enforcer once. The heavy plating was gone, but he still sported the red chevron on his helm, and his doorwings stood out stiffly. A grey youngling clung to his leg, hiding his face against his carriers plating. He was the first youngling that Jazz had ever seen in this place. 

Jazz’s spark fell. No one that young should be in this situation. The Praxian’s gaze fell on him, and just as quickly looked away. His optics dim. Jazz knew a broken mech when he saw one. He had seen that look often enough on his own faceplates early in the war. Not so much now, but perhaps he was broken in other ways. 

Megatron had stopped, and put a heavy hand on Jazz’s shoulder, “Somebot caught your optic?” 

Jazz stiffened, shoulders hunching, a surly expression creeping onto his faceplates. He was angry with Megatron, and nothing was going to dissuade him from that fact, not even the fleeting brush of Megatron’s fingers against his neck cording. He was angry. He was irritated. He was not going to let Megatron sweep him up into that trap. Not now. No. “Dunno what you mean.” 

“Mmmm...I have been meaning to get you a companion, pet,” Megatron purred. “What do you think?” 

“You will do what you want,” Jazz growled back, the winglets on his back hiked up like the hackles on the back of a cybercat. “You dragged my aft out here after all.”

“Always so prickly. You know I enjoy that,” Megatron laughed, and tweaked one of Jazz’s sensory horns. “I enjoy you. Mmmm...do you think you would enjoy having him in your berth when I am gone?” Jazz didn’t miss the frown that flickered across Megatron’s faceplates as they settled on the sparkling. There were some things that Megatron just would not tolerate, and the mistreatment of younglings was high on the list. 

Jazz glowered at him, “He is a mech. A sentient being. Not a toy. I thought that was what that whole revolution of yours was about. Frag. Why are they even selling younglings. I thought you had banned that.”

Megatron made a humming noise. “Things are not as I intended, but the Senate would not have let us live in peace and neither would your people. You know I would never willingly---” 

“We are all Cybertronians!” 

“Oh, Jazz. What am I to do with you? I treat you well. I do not force you. I do not beat you. I spoil you.” I love you, but that was left unsaid. Jazz would have hit him for it. Had hit him. It never ceased to anger Jazz that things had fallen to this. He wondered if Megatron’s generals had really realized how codependent they had become and if they would still follow him if they knew.” 

“A gilded cage is still a cage. It’s not right,” Jazz huffed, knowing full well that Megatron would have released him had he ever asked. Even he realized he was only punishing himself. Had Megatron had his way they would have bonded a vorn ago. Jazz knew, just knew that he did not deserve that kind of happiness. 

“Perhaps not, but it is the state of our world now. Take spark that your younglings will be free,” Megatron said slowly. “Our sparklings will never know such suffering.” 

Jazz bristled, “Lies.” 

“They will be my heirs, and...if we bring that mech home his sparkling would be raised as one of our own. Would you deny him that freedom?” 

Jazz flinched, and whispered, “You know I wouldn’t.” And finally reached out and Touched Megatron’s hand. He wanted to take it into his own, but let his drop away after a whisper of a touch. 

“We are in agreement then,” Megatron said and propelled Jazz towards the platform where they were greeted by the merchant. 

“Lord Megatron, what an honor. What can I help you with on this fine sol?” The mech’s purple optics glowed brightly in anticipation. “Has one of the slaves caught your optics? One of the femmes perhaps? I have a lovely pink one that would look good in your berth. Or if she is not to your taste I have a towers mech. Very talented, if you know what I mean.” 

“Mmmm...I know, but that is not what I am looking for. I want the Praxian.” Megatron pushed a credit chip at the mech, which only made him frown. 

“Why would you want him he---” 

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Swindle.” Megatron moved towards the platform, undoing the mech’s long leash before Swindle could stop him. “Come along then.” 

The Praxian’s optics dart from Lord Megatron to Swindle and back until Swindle finally nods, “Go with your new master. Give me the sparkling now.”

The Praxian froze, and knelt, clinging to the sparkling. “NO! You can’t take him away. He’s not even a vorn!” He bit out and then cringed away when Swindle tried to take the mechling. 

“I want them both. You cannot separate a creator from it’s sparkling,” Megatron snapped. 

“There is no laws saying I can’t, and you only paid for one.” 

Megatron’s armor bristled, and he physically shoved Swindle away, throwing another credit chip at him. “You can be sure I will rectify that soon.” He helped the Praxian off of the platform, and passed the sparkling to a surprised Jazz. 

“You can’t do that! You are cutting into my bottom line,” Swindle yelled. 

“I can, and I will. Ping me over their papers before the end of the sol,” Megatron growled. 

Swindle flinched, “You know I will.” 

Megatron led the mechs away, a frown on his faceplates. Jazz had never seen him quite so worked up. Not like this. 

The sparkling whimpered and started crying loudly, and tried to reach for his creator. “‘Ree! Ree!” 

“It’s okay, little bit. He’s coming with us,” Jazz said. 

The adult Praxian trembled, looking fearful they really would take the sparkling away until he was pressed back into his arms. “Thank you, Master,” he whispered. 

“What is your designation?” 

“Prowl.” 

“And the little ones?” Megatron asked more gently.

“Bluestreak, master.” The Praxian’s doorwings drooped. “You are going to let me keep him, aren’t you?” 

“I would not take a sparkling away from his carrier. I promise you this.” 

“He won’t,” Jazz said. “Megsy is a jerk, but he wouldn't do that. I’m Jazz, by the way.” 

Megatron tweaked one of Jazz’s sensory horns, “I’m a jerk now?” 

“You have your moments.”

OoOoOoOo

Prowl was not sure about the mechs he followed through town. He had seen the black and white slave, Jazz he was to learn, staring at him when he was on the platform. And the other mech...he recognized the other, Lord Megatron, the terror of Kaon. He towered over the both of them. Prowl fretted. The big mech had taken Bluestreak from him, and carried the little sparkling in one arm, and held the leashes in the other.

The other mech walked closer, and put a hand on Prowl’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. He won’t hurt him. Megatron is many things but he is not a mech that would do that.” 

Prowl stiffened, “How do you know?” 

Jazz shrugged, “I’ve been with him since before the coup ended. He caught me in the siege at Polyhex.” Jazz’s optics dimmed. “I was part of Sentinel Prime’s retinue.” 

“That was over three a vorns ago,” Prowl said distractedly. Most of the attention was still on the sparkling the whimpered occasionally. He had stopped crying long ago at least. 

“It was,” Jazz agreed. “It has been....a very long time, honestly.” 

“They caught me in Praxus. I was one of the few survivors.” 

“And the sparkling?” 

Prowl stiffened, “He came afterwards. One of the guards took an interest in me. It wasn’t as if I could have said no. He owned me.” Prowl’s doorwings fluttered in distress. “He was bonded. And his bonded found out I was sparked. They waited until Blue was extracted and...they just sold us both. To Swindle. And Swindle reformatted my frame...he said it was a good investment. No mech wanted an enforcer...it wasn’t like they needed bodyguards. He said I was pretty enough to be a berth mech.” He hunched in on himself, despair radiating through his field. 

“What was the mech’s name?” Jazz asked, frowning. 

“B-Bluestreak’s sire?” 

“Yeah. Curious that a mech would sell his own progeny into slavery. It’s not right,” Jazz said slowly. “Not the way it’s supposed to work.” 

Megatron stopped and turned, “It isn’t supposed to be this way. We need to repopulate. The new generation is not meant to be bought and sold. I never intended that. Who were your previous masters?” 

Prowl stiffened, “Slipshot and Paradox. They are both Praxians as well. I...” he looked down, clenching his hands together. “It is not my place to talk ill of them.”

Megatron snorted, “It is your place if I say it is. Come then. We are nearly home.” 

Prowl craned his helm, looking at the highrise they approached, it was far nicer than the part of the city his than masters had lived in. 

“Don’t look so overwhelmed,” Jazz said. “He doesn’t have the entire building. Just the top three floors. And we don’t have to do any of the cleaning, than Primus.” 

“Work would be nice though. It keeps my processor off what I’ve lost.” 

“Yeah, I guess that would help. You were an enforcer, right?” Jazz asked. 

Prowl nodded, and looked away. “I don’t want to talk about it, if it’s all the same.” 

“I don’t blame you. I used to be a cultural investigator, and then I worked with Sentinel Prime. He was kinda jerky but I don’t think he deserved what happened to him. 

“Sometimes...sometimes I wished that they had just offlined me too. Sometimes it seems like a real nightmare, but I’m here. Probably better than The Well, I guess. Megsy isn’t so bad, half the time.” 

“My name is not Megsy, Jazz. We have had this talk. It’s disrespectful,” he said as he ushered them in the lift, and unhooked their leashes. “Do we need to have that talk again?” 

Jazz stiffened, “No, Megatron, we really don’t.” 

“Pity. I found it enjoyable.”

Prowl trembled, which wasn’t lost on Jazz. “Stupid glitch, you are scaring him. It’s not like you are thinking, Prowl. He didn’t...exactly hurt me. Humiliated me, certainly.” Jazz scowled at Megatron. “Spanked me like some errant sparkling in front of his troops. It was humiliating, but it didn’t really hurt me.” 

The lift slid open, making Prowl keep whatever he would have said to himself. The room beyond was elegant, and not at all what Prowl had been expecting. It was clear mechs lived here. There was personal touches, and datapads...so many datapads lining the walls. Prowl stared. It was a horrible temptation. He had never been allowed to read datapads at his previous masters home.

“I have a meeting with my generals to attend, Jazz. Show Prowl around while I am gone. And for the love of Primus, behave for once,” Megatron said as he placed Bluestreak back into Prowl’s arms, and kissed Jazz on the helm. 

“Yes, sir,” Jazz smirked and gave him a jaunty salute, which left Prowl wide-opticed and clearly confused. Megatron stepped back into the lift, the door slid shut and they were alone.

“Aren’t you afraid he will hurt you? He’s so much bigger than we are? He kissed you. I don’t understand this at all.” 

“Honestly? After all of this time. Not really. For a long time I beat myself up about it. About what happened to Sentinel...to myself. I don’t know. It is what it is. He’s not going to let me go and it’s a wasted effort to hate him. As far as masters go, I guess he treats me well. I wish I had my freedom, but I know my sparklings will be free. He’s promised and I’ve never seen him break his word once it’s given.” The black and white mech vented softly, “Frag if I ain’t starting tah sound like ‘Rage.”

“‘Rage?” 

“Eh, Mirage. he’s a friend of mine, I guess. Good mech. Just a bit misguided. Doesn’t really matter at the moment. Yeah, doesn’t matter at all, I guess. Do you want to put the bitlet down for a recharge nap?” 

“Do you have a berth I can put him down on? Or a pillow at least.”

Jazz snorted, “Come on. I got something better than that for you.” Jazz lead him through the flat, and frowned as the mech stopped at a door before keying it open. 

“What is this?” 

“The nursery. Megsy is very keen on siring a new generation. Sadly...he has failed to spark me thus far.” 

“Sadly? You wouldn’t really....” Prowl stared. 

“We all need a purpose, Prowler. That is one chore I wouldn’t mind. I’ve always wanted sparklings, and it’s not like I really have a choice. Might as well learn to be happy about it.” 

“I see. No....really I don’t,” Prowl said. “I don’t understand at all. You care about him. How can you care about him? You said yourself that he captured you. Has he hacked you? I know it is illegal, but some masters do use compliance coding. You probably can’t even tell me. Is that what it is?” 

Jazz snorted at Prowl’s response, “No. I haven’t been hacked. It is what it is, mech. I like it when he jumps my gears, and I like it when I can do the same to him. Never said it was right, or sane,” Jazz said. “Not like any sparkling we had won’t be loved and cared for. Frag, not like you could say the same.” 

Prowl’s doorwings fluttered anxiously as he put Bluestreak into the little recharge berth, covering him with a thermal regulating blanket. He fussed over the sparkling, even after Bluestreak had drifted off. “That was a cruel thing to say.” 

Jazz vented, “But it is the truth. I haven’t really been a slave since the first time I crawled into his berth willingly. He considers me his consort and has said as much. It’s how their society works. Kidnapping mates. Frag knows it’s messed up, and maybe I have Garrus Syndrome, but it’s better than the latter...and I fragging know he cares about me as much as I care about him. I’ve seen it in his spark. Sparks don’t lie. 

I don’t...I just can’t beat myself up about what happened for the rest of my existence. I tried to warn Sentinel that he was not handling them correctly. He wouldn't listen, and I’m tired of beating myself up over it. I can’t change what happen, but I can have some measure of happiness.” 

“You still wear the collar… I don’t understand,” Prowl said, wings standing up behind him in a sharp ‘V’. “How can you...I don't understand at all. How can you let him use you like that. Willingly.” 

Jazz bristled, “It’s my choice. He’s not using me any more than I’m using him. I’m just not ready---I can't forgive myself...not yet. It feels like a betrayal," Jazz finally said, and then sighed, “Come on, I’m fragging tired of mushing over this emotional slag. Lemme show you the rest of the house. Maybe get you cleaned up. There is a hot oil pool in the washrack. You might feel better after a soak.” 

"Will it be okay to leave him here?" Prowl asked, motioning to Bluestreak. 

"It is his room now, but I can have one of the drones alert us if he wakes up," Jazz offered.

"That is kind, thank you. He has never really been away from me. I-I was told we would be separated when we went up for purchase. You aren't going to take him away, are you? Please don't. I couldn't bear it. Even if you won't let me keep any of the others, please let me keep Blue."

"Others? What are you going on about, mech?" Jazz recoiled.

"Didn't you buy me to be a breeder? They said that was what I would be sold for."

It was Jazz's turn to stare, "Frag no. Why would you think that?" Jazz shook his helm, “No, actually. Don’t answer that.” He motioned for Prowl to follow him after he instructed the drone to come get them if Bluestreak woke. He led the Praxian through the hallway finally stopping at a large door which slip open to reveal a luxurious washrack. 

Prowl’s doorwings perked up, “I haven’t been in an oil soak since before...you know.” 

“Mmmm...well that is easily remedied,” Jazz said, and set about filling the pool. 

When it was full he helped Prowl into the warm oil, and the Praxian gave a blissed out sigh. “Feels really good.” 

“It does,” Jazz purred, and let himself fall back against the side of the pool. Warm oiled seeped between their joints, and against their protoforms as it seeped between cracks in their armor. “Feels lovely, doesn’t it?” 

“Yes. Better than I’ve felt in a vorn,” Prowl said solemnly.

OoOoOoOo

Bluestreak stirred, his little spark thumping hard in his chest. He couldn't feel his carrier anywhere near. The room was odd. Too dark. Too big. It wasn’t the safeplace his carrier would take them to when it was time to recharge. The safe place was barely big enough for the both of them to curl up together. It was snug.

This was just big, and there was a little drone watching him. It beeped, startling Bluestreak, and reached for him. Bluestreak shrieked, and rolled away from the drone. He managed to get off of the berth and toddled as fast as he could towards the door. It slid open and Bluestreak fell out, a scream on his lips. Where was his carrier? He still couldn't feel him!

He made his way through the hall, whimpering. It was dark, and scary. He screamed again, louder this time, “REE!!!! REEEE!!!!” 

“BLUE?!?” He heard his carrier’s voice and it broke through Bluestreak’s terror. Strong servos picked him up and suddenly he was wrapped in his carrier’s arms. He sniffled for a moment before he started to sob soundlessly. 

“Ree, lost. Ree LOST!”

“No! No bitty. Never. I am here,” his carrier crooned and held him close. Their fields meshed and Bluestreak finally relaxed. “I’m here, love. I’m not going to leave you. I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry I scared you.” 

“Is he okay?” The black and white mech asked. Bluestreak didn’t know what to think about him. He was with the big scary mech. The big scary mech was like the mechs that hurt Blue’s carrier. So big. Bluestreak always worried that they would squish him. 

“Yes, I think he is okay. Just startled. He’s never slept alone. He’s never been far from me.” 

“That isn’t healthy, mech,” the black and white mech said. 

“Ree....scared, Ree. Scared.” 

“I know Blue, I’m so sorry, love. I’m so sorry.” 

Bluesteak whimpered quietly. He didn’t want to get his carrier into any more trouble. Noise was bad. If he made too much noise he would get taken away. 

“Maybe you two should go get some rest. There is a rollaway berth in the nursery. If you want to stay close for tonight.” 

“Thank you,” Bluestreak’s carrier said, and hugged him closer. “That would be for the best. It’s been a long sol.” 

“Rest?” Bluestreak asked. 

“Yes, sparkling,” his carrier said. “Can we please go now?” 

The other mech frowned, and Bluestreak didn’t like it. “I guess, but he’s gonna need to learn to recharge alone eventually.” 

“I--I know, but not now. Please,” Bluestreak’s carrier said. 

“Oh, mech, if I meant now I wouldn’t have offered to get the rollaway berth. I’m just saying...it’s not healthy. It’s not going to help him to grow up strong.” 

His carrier gave a mournful little sigh. “I know.”

Bluestreak clung to him as they made their way back to that horrible room, but he wasn’t alone this time at least.

OoOoOoOo

Jazz sprawled across the berth, stretching out as he waited for Megatron to come home. He worried about their new guest, and wondered what they were going to do with them both. He didn’t have long to dwell on it. Megatron strolled through the door to the berthroom, and stopped at the edge, watching him.

“You look exhausted.” 

“I feel exhausted,” Jazz said, too tired to stray from the truth. “It was a long day sparkling sitting. We have two very unhappy mechs on our hands.” He didn’t protest when he was picked up and cradled against Megatron’s chestplates. It was too much effort to fight it, and too much processor power to think of a suitably snarky remark. 

“Are you unwell?” Megatron asked, tipping up Jazz’s faceplates, and removing the visor, carefully setting it aside. “You seem more quiet than usual. Did something happen?” 

“Kiss me.” 

“What?” Megatron frowned down at him as if he had grown a second helm. “Jazz? Are you ill? Do I need to take you to see Hook.” 

The mech’s concern undid Jazz. “I’m find. I’ve just been thinking about...things. About the world. About sparklings. About us. I think were are both fragged up. Horribly fragged up. This isn’t right.” Jazz swayed in his arms, shaking. “I don’t know how much I can take of this.”

“Then bond with me. Imagine how many mechs you could help if you did.”

“Frag, mech, that isn’t fair. You make it sound like I’m making a deal with Unicron himself. Maybe I am,” Jazz whispered. “I need you. Please. I can’t take the verbal sparring tonight. I can’t handle it.” 

“What can you handle?” Megatron asked, and stroked across Jazz’s winglets. “What do you need?” 

“Hold me. I hurt. He hurt me. He didn’t mean to, but it hurt all the same. I’m not a good mech. I sit about in this...this place. Safe from everything, I don’t deserve that. I’m the worse. I’m horrible. I’m not worthy of it.” Jazz curled in on himself. 

All of his insecurities from his past came rushing back. His claws flared out, and he would have sank them into his own wrists, ripping at the armour plating and energon lines, but Megatron caught hold of his servos, holding them tight in his own. 

“No,” Megatron rumbled behind him, holding him all the closer. “I know it hurts but injuring yourself isn’t going to make you feel any better. We’ve danced this dance before, Jazz. I won’t let you do this.” 

Jazz struggled against him for a moment before finally falling lax, “You know he thought we had brought him here to be a breeder. Do you know what they do to breeders, Megatron? Force sparklings on them until their sparks finally snuff out. He thought we were going to do that to him. We were those monsters to him.” 

“His fears are understandable,” Megatron said in that reasonable tone that made Jazz want to turn in his arms and claw at him. “And so are yours.” Megatron moved, Pressing Jazz down onto the berth and pinning his hands above his helm. 

Jazz relaxed, tipping his helm up, “Yes.” He pressed his frame up, already revving loudly. “Make me forget.”

OoOoOoOo

Prowl curled up on the berth, Bluestreak slumbered against his chestplates, his little claws holding tight where they has wiggled between the seams. Even in his sleep he held on tightly. Prowl envied the slow beat of Bluestreak’s spark, and the ease in which he had fallen into recharge. He stared at the opposite wall for a joor, terrified that the big mech would come and snatch him away from Bluestreak. He finally fell into a daze, and the past came flooding back.

_He was trapped. Pinned under the rubbled. He heard a faint scraping, and then the rubbled was lifted away. He was dazed, and fuel starved when he was lifted out from the pit, but he still fought and tried to scramble away. Somehow he twisted, and clawed his way free. He ran, but didn’t get far. One mech tackled him. They both crashed to the ground. The mech’s weight bore down on Prowl, crushing one of his sensory panels and leaving pain ripping through his chassis. He saw white._

__

Prowl stiffened, the memory leaving him shaking. He tried to control his venting, not wanting to wake Bluestreak, but by some miracle the sparkling never stirred.

OoOoOoOo

“What did you do while you were gone?” Jazz asked, his armour still pinging. “I didn’t know you had anything scheduled. Was it just to give me some time to evaluate our...guest?”

“I talked to Soundwave. I’m having him go through the laws and find a possible solution to the current dilemma.” Megatron pulled Jazz closer, settling him on his sparkplates. One hand trailed along the mech’s spinal strut, and caressed the hinges at the base of Jazz’s winglets. “We’ll find a solution soon. Rewrite what we must. And...I also did some digging on the mechs that owned Prowl before.” 

Jazz wiggled, impatiently until he finally settled, sprawled against the warlord. “And?” 

“And nothing. They will be taken aside and given a...talk. It will not happen again if they value their sparks, and no one else will treat a carrier in that manner. I’ve put Soundwave in charge of monitoring the market, and eventually mandatory treatment of all slaves to evaluate their condition. I hope it is enough.” Megatron tilted Jazz’s helm up and caught him in a lingering kiss. He pulled a mesh rope from his subspace and used it to tie Jazz’s hands about his helm, lips curling in amusement at the loud rev Jazz’s engine gave. “Perhaps you would like to go in with me tomorrow. I’m sure you have ideas.” 

Jazz purred, “Oh, you're right mech. I always have ideas. Lots and lots of ideas.” Jazz tilted his hips up, rubbing his already hot plating against Megatron’s own. “I even have some pretty good ideas of what I want you to be doing. Hmmmm....what do ya think, Megsy? Feel like making me scream?” 

The warlord stared down at him, optics blazing. “You know I do. I always do, and I want you at my side tomorrow. I need you.” 

Jazz squirmed, pulling at the restraints, “At your peds.” 

“You know that is not what I want.”

“It’s not always about you, Megsy,” Jazz said, his tone gentle and teasing for once. “Despite what you think Cybertron’s sun does not rise and set at your peds. You are not the center of our universe.” 

“I would like to be the center of yours,” Megatron said, nibbling his way down Jazz’s prone form. “I would like to be the sun to your Cybertron. I would like to be your everything. The energon you consume, the air you vent.” He nuzzled Jazz’s abdominal plating, nipping at the edges.

“If only your troops could hear you, Megsy. Waxing poetic about something as insignificant as myself,” Jazz snickered. 

“You are the most significant mech here,” Megatron said, and paused to look down at Jazz. “Don’t give me that look. You look like I kicked a turbopuppy. You are spoiling the mood.” 

“Wouldn’t want that,” Jazz quipped, “I’m sorry, I’m just...please.” 

“Open for me then, I want to taste you.” 

One lick was all it took. Jazz’s panel snapped open, and he tilted his hips. Megatron lapped up the lubricant already dripping out. Jazz let his helm drop back, and a moan fell from his lips. The mech knew just the right places to lick, and the right amount of suction. It felt amazing. “Please! Please more.” 

Megatron found one of the exterior nodes, and sucked on it gently until Jazz was a writhing mess beneath him, until he screamed and pulled at the mesh holding his hands above his helm, until he screamed out Megatron’s name. 

When Jazz’s venting slowed, Megatron hovered over him, looking down at him with bright optics, “What do you want then?” Jazz asked slowly. 

“Your spark.” 

Jaz didn’t hesitate as he let the locks open and the panel slid away revealing the bright silver spark beneath. “Yes. I want you. Now.”

“So demanding.” 

Jazz’s spark was nearly eclipsed by the bright red light of the orb in Megatron’s chest. Tendrils from Jazz’s spark reached out, seeking the spark above his. “You like that, though. Don’t you?” 

Megatron hummed in assent and pushed their sparks together. The coronas entwined and the crystals scraped against one another before they sank into a deeper merge. 

Jazz clung to him, claws digging in and scraping nanites of the living metal as he was swept away. ~I want you too.~ Jazz sent, feeling the longing in Megatron’s spark, ~But I don’t have to like it.~

~No, you don’t,~ Megatron agreed before they were both carried away in the overload that followed.

OoOoOoOo

Prowl was stiff as he uncurled from protective ball he had curled in around Bluestreak’s still slumbering form. He needed fuel, but at the same time he was terrified to leave Bluestreak alone. That had been horrible. So instead he carefully lifted the sparkling, and tried his best not to wake him. He cradled Bluestreak against his sparkplates as he left the room. He didn’t have to go far. He found Jazz sitting in the living area watching a vid.

“Didn’t think you were ever going to come out of recharge. I bet you are needing to refuel,” he hopped up and motioned for Prowl to follow. “Do you have any preferences? Feel free to program them into the dispenser. It can even make sparkling fuel.” 

“Oh. That is nice of you. Does the master mind? Are you sure I am allowed to draw my own fuel? I---I don’t want to get in trouble.” He held onto Bluestreak more tightly and looked as if the sparking might be taken away from him. “Maybe I should go back to my room and wait until he comes and gets me. I don’t want to break the rules.” 

“Whoa there, stop. You aren’t gonna get in trouble mech,” Jazz said, and put an arm around Prowl. He guided him into towards the energon dispenser, drawing a cube for Prowl and pressing it into Prowl’s hands before the Praxian could protest any more. “Drink up. Megsy doesn’t like us running low.” 

“Why d-doesn’t he like us running low? Is he going to m-make me...” Prowl’s doorwings trembled. He didn't’ want another sparkling. As much as he loved Bluestreak he did not want to go through that again. Not so soon. His spark thumped beneath his sparkplates in fear. “I...I heard you last night....did he....did he...” 

“I told you it wasn’t like that,” Jazz grunted. “He doesn’t like unwilling partners. He’s not going to make you do anything. Promise. I think you need to just calm down. No one is going to hurt you here or make you do anything you don’t want to do. No one is going to hurt your bitty or take him away. I promise. On my spark.” 

Jazz led him back through the living area and motioned towards the couch. “Have a seat, please.” 

“Why am I here?” 

“A whim on our lords part. He has wanted to get a companion for me. Someone to keep me occupied and give me company when he is gone. It’s not always a good day for me to accompany him. It really won’t be bad here. And as he said, your sparkling will be treated well,” Jazz said scooting closer. “You seem like a very nice mech. Maybe one day you can be happy here.” 

Prowl stiffened, “I don’t see how that would be possible. I am a sentient being and you are keeping me as...what...a pet? I saw my city destroyed. I was kindled against my will. How can I ever be happy again?” 

“Mech...I hate to be the bearer of bad news but the Cons didn’t bomb Praxus. Frag...it was Sentinel. I tried to talk him out of it. A lot of us did. He was not right towards the end. As much as I loved and respected the mech he was not good for Cybertron and he did horrible things. He destroyed lives. He ordered the bombing. He thought Praxus might be leaning towards...well...yeah.”

Prowl’s optics brightened until they were nearly white, grief rolled off of his field. “You are lying?” 

“Frag. I wish I was. I can show you if you want.” 

Prowl hunched protectively around Bluestreak, “You are lying.” 

“I’d never lie to yah, Prowler.” 

“I think I would like to be alone,” Prowl said, his plating rattling. “Please. I just...need to think about all of this.” He rocked Bluestreak, the sparkling began to fret and then cry, sensing his carriers distress. 

Jazz watched them both, “I don’t think that would be a good idea. You are distraught and not in your right processor. I would just as soon stay near you.” Jazz sat back, and watched the mech try to confort the little sparling. “I wish there was something I could say to help. I really don’t like seeing mechs suffer. I know I don’t know you that well...but you seem like you have a good spark, and I would like to. I really do want to help you.” 

Prowl’s ventilation hitched, “You would? I don’t know why. I never had many friends on the force they always said I was...well they didn’t like me much. I followed the rules. I tried to stay out of trouble, and look where that got me.” 

“It kept you on this side of the Well. That is nothing to feel sorry for.” 

“I regret that much of the time. My city is lost. My function is lost. My culture is lost.” 

“Then I will help you find a new function,” Jazz said. “There is still hope. We are functioning after all.” 

“I’m not sure that is enough,” Prowl said softly.

Jazz touched his shoulder gently, “Then we will find a way to make it so.”


	2. Chapter 2

Megatron strolled into the command center, and made his way up to the war room where he knew Soundwave would be waiting. “What progress have you made?” 

“Soundwave: still reviewing section nine. Articles...convoluted. Swindle correct in summation, many omissions and loopholes. Soundwave: devising appropriate actions. Advice: put hold on slave purchases. Close market until laws reviewed.”

Megatron nodded, frowning. “Make the arrangements then. Do you have the file on the Praxian?” 

“Affirmative: Lord Megatron.” He handed over a datapad to Megatron. 

“Praxian: interesting mech. Should have been among the high ranking mechs in his division.” 

Megatron hummed, “And yet he was not.” 

“Affirmative: Lord Megatron. Prowl: went against superiors too often. Relegated to patrolling poor districts.” 

Megatron nodded, “His creators had an experimental tactical computer installed in him? Interesting. As a mechling...I will have the medics look at him. I thought such things were banned. It is one thing to install such upgrades in a mature mech...but in a sparkling...” 

“Procedure can stunt emotional growth.” Soundwave agreed. “Prowl: seems to have adapted to it. Had been scheduled for further upgrades, but those never happened because of Praxus’ fall.” 

Megatron frowned, “I see. Why would they do that though? It seems like it would have been more harm than good.” 

“Prowl: test subject. The experiment paid for his way through the academy. Praxus: planned to install all enforcers with similar systems if Prowl proved successful. Prowl’s personality got in the way. Prowl: not as accommodating as they had planned. Prowl: slated to be reformatted. Memory and personality wiped. Praxian government was not happy with their investment.” 

Megatron stiffened, “Does he know this?” 

“Negative. Creators signed off on order. It would have happened when he went in for the next upgrade. Prowl: unaware of plan. Soundwave: could not imagine he would agree to such a thing.” 

“Neither can I,” Megatron agreed, and flipped through the dossier. “He’s brilliant.” 

“Assessment: correct.” 

“He would be an asset to the cause, and he is a proven carrier. I would be a fool not to court him.” 

“Megatron: never a fool. Jazz: in accordance?” the host mech asked. 

“I believe he would be amenable to such a thing,” Megatron said. “I think he is already smitten.” 

“Megatron’s: consort wise.” 

Megatron snorted, “He has not agreed yet. You know that. Perhaps he never will.” 

“Megatron: needs patience.” 

“Mmm...I know, old friend.” Megatron continued to frown, “Slipshot and Paradox?” 

“Mechs: in custody. Shockwave: interrogating.”

Megatron nodded, “Good good, and the investigation on Swindle.” 

A deep growling noise rose up from Soundwave’s chest, “Swindle: in custody as well. Investigation of Swindle’s business underway. Two dozen sparklings found in Swindle’s warehouse. Swindle breeding slaves and selling offspring. Twenty breeders in care as well. Soundwave: placed in isolation ward in medical center.”

Megatron’s armour puffed out in agitation, “I see. Keep me apprised of that situation. Have the psychiatrist in to see them. They are in no doubt traumatised.” 

“Soundwave: personally taking care of situation. Medics: testing sparkling and carriers CNA. Several carriers with spark. Several tested already: Swindle sire.” 

Megatron stiffened, “I see. I want him prosecuted to the fullest extent. I will not tolerate this sort of thing. Hack him if you must, but get all of the information you can...and find out if his brothers were in on this little scheme as well.” 

“Soundwave: will not fail Lord Megatron.” 

“I know you will not.”

OoOoOoOo

Megatron made his way back home from his meeting with Soundwave. His subspace was practically bursting with toys for the sparkling. That at least had brightened the dark mood that he had sunk into during his meeting with Soundwave. He had hoped that the news would not be too grim. He had hoped that it was just an isolated incident. Soundwave had confirmed his worst fears and more. 

The door into the suite slid open, taking him away from such dark thoughts. “Jazz? Prowl?” 

“We are in the kitchen,” Jazz yelled back, and peeked around the the corner. There was a large pink smear across his forehelm and across one cheek. “We’re making energon treats, want to taste test?” 

Megatron laughed. Jazz was always full of surprises. Some pleasant. Some less so. “Mmmm...I would that mind that.” He moved further into the room, and saw Prowl stirring a bowl of pink batter, and Bluestreak toddling along the floor. It was a seemingly happy scene. “I see he conscripted you as well Prowl.” 

Prowl looked up, optics widening, “He did, Master.” 

“Megatron, please. Call me Megatron,” the warlord said and moved closer to the sparkling, picking him up before Prowl could protest. 

Bluestreak looked up at him suspiciously, but did not cry as he had last time. His little doorwings flattened against his back, and he let out a little whimper of distress. 

“Sh...I won’t hurt you little one,” Megatron said and pulled out a mesh bumblepuppy from his subspace and pressed it into the sparkling’s arms. Bluestreak accepted it, and looked at the plushie in confusion, making a little burbling noise. 

“He won’t know what it is,” Prowl whispered. “They wouldn’t let me give him any toys. He...he doesn’t like strange bots picking him up. They liked to scare him. They thought it was funny. Especially P-Paradox. He would act like he was going to drop him. Sometimes he did. He liked to listen to him scream.” Prowl hunched on himself, doorwings flattening against his back in distress. 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. You are safe now. I promise you,” Megatron said. “I will even grant you your freedom, if that is your wish.” 

“I have no place to go. No credits. No safe place to take Bluestreak. A-are you turning us out? Please master. Please don’t. I’ll be good. I promise,” Prowl dropped to his knees. 

“Prowler, get up. He doesn’t mean it like that,” Jazz said, and put a gentle hand on Prowl’s shoulder. “We would never turn you out. We’ll keep you safe.” 

“What kind of trick is this?” Prowl whispered. 

“It isn’t any trick, Prowl,” Megatron said and offered the Praxian his hand. “If you do not want to stay with us I will find you a safe place. I would, however like the chance to court you. I think you would fit in well with us.” 

“I don’t want to be your breeder,” Prowl whispered, the words blurting from his vocal processor. “I don’t want that again. Not ever.” 

“We won’t force you to do anything. You can always think about it, or say no,” Jazz said. “Or you can think about it as long as you want.” 

Prowl shook, “I want to think about it. I---if I agree I want a contract. With the terms of our...our arrangement written out. I don’t want to be a breeder. Not unless it is my own choice. I would rather offline myself.” 

Jazz knelt beside him, “We won’t force you to do anything. Just give us a chance. Please.” 

“Let us court you,” Megatron said, smiling at the approval in Jazz’s expression. 

“You are both insane. I don’t understand why you are doing this? Is it a game to you?” Prowl said, craning his neck up to look at Megatron.

“It isn’t a game, or a trick,” Jazz said. “We are serious. Just give us a chance.”

Bluestreak burbled loudly, clinging to his mesh bumblepuppy, and startling Prowl. He reached out one hand, waving it at Prowl, and chirped. 

Prowl looked up at him, surprised. “He likes you, I think. He doesn’t usually react well to other mecha.” 

“Perhaps he is a good judge of character,” Jazz said, reaching out to touch Prowl gently. 

“Perhaps,” Prowl agreed. “We shall see.”

OoOoOoOo

“Hello, you must be Prowl,” the red and white medic said as he came into the room. “Lord Megatron thought you might be more comfortable dealing with a non-Decepticon medic. I’m going to remove all compliance programming, and check your general health...as well as that of your sparkling’s.” 

Prowl nodded, and sat down heavily on the berth. He had not expected that to happen. He had not really believed Megatron when he said he would be freed. He thought it was just a pretty set of lies in order to lure him into their berth willingly. “Ah...thank you. Are you really going to remove it?” 

Ratchet nodded, “That is what I have been tasked to do. It may not be the most comfortable of procedures. I need you to open your medical ports for me please.” 

Prowl nodded and let the ports spiral open. It was odd to willingly let a mech in through his firewalls, and as Ratchet said it was not a comfortable thing to have the mech shifting through his programing and making edits was---if not painful---very close to it. He felt the medic shift through line after line of coding, editing some, and completely erasing others. By the time Ratchet finished, some joors later, Prowl felt exhausted and weak. 

Ratchet helped him stretch out on the berth and gave him something to block the dull pain in his processor. Prowl curled up on the berth and watched the medic as he moved his attention to Bluestreak. 

“He’s a very healthy sparkling,” Ratchet said. “his mineral levels are at an acceptable level as is his growth rate. He should be receiving his first language uploads. Would you like for me to make arrangements with Megatron?”

Prowl stared, and tried to find the words. It felt odd to answer for himself. “I would appreciate that. I’m worried about the trauma that he went through during his first sols. His sire was not kind to him.”

“Counseling in time. I can recommend a good sparkling psychologist if you please.” 

“I don’t have any way to pay for that. I don’t have any way to pay you.” 

Ratchet made a humming noise, “I don’t think you have to worry about that, your intended has already settled the bill with my bonded.” 

“I never agreed...I...sure. Thank you,” Prowl nodded, a frown marring his face. “I appreciate it.” 

“It would be best if you rest for now. Would you like me to give you something to help to recharge?”

Prowl hesitated before finally nodding. His recharge had been troubled since he had arrived here, and he was so very, very tired. “Please.” 

Ratchet moved closer, and injected something into Prowl’s main energon line that left him feeling warm and drowsy, the mech covered him up with a mech and finally he fell into a deep recharge.

OoOoOoOo

Jazz watched Megatron from the doorway, “I really wasn't sure you would do it.” 

“Release him? I gave my word, Jazz. Surely you know me better than that. Even you could have your freedom if you chose.” 

“I don’t know if I really believe you about that either,” Jazz whispered. “You are a tricky old devil.” 

“Is that what you really think about me? Truly?” Megatron stood, crossing the room he pulled the mech close, and studied his faceplates. “What more must I do to gain your trust?” 

Jazz let himself be held, stilling under Megatron’s touch. “I want proof of your commitment. Let me come with you to the council. I want to see the changes made. I was to see it made official. No more sparklings sold, ever. And if one of your people sparks up a slave than they should be responsible for it’s care, for it’s education, for it’s future. You promise that my sparklings will be free...I want the same promise for every other slave your people have taken. That is what I want.” 

Megatron stared down at him, surprised. It had not been the answer he had been expecting. “I can do that.” 

Jazz huffed, “I wasn’t done. I want my people to be free. I understand that you will not simply free us all but the opportunity to buy our freedom, or...or be courted by worthy Decepticons. And...there should be no more slaves unless that are...convicted criminals. I do not like your use of spark prisons. It doesn’t help. If anything it makes matters worse.” He shifted from ped to ped, in Megatron’s embrace. For once he didn’t bait the warlord he just stared up at him, trying not to be too hopeful.

“You will agree to be my consort if I make this happen?” 

“Yes. I will. I would be your faithful slave forever if you did this for me,” Jazz said, resting his forehelm against Megatron’s chestplates. “I would do anything for this.” 

“Even bond with the tyrant before you?” Megatron put a hand under the mech’s chin and forced him to look up. 

Jazz flinched, “I didn’t mean...” 

“Don’t insult me, Jazz. I am agreeing to this in good faith. I would have thought I had made myself clear. I don’t want a slave. I want you. All of you.” 

Jazz nodded, “It is a small price to pay. You already have my spark.” 

The warlord pulled the smaller mech closer, “Come with me then, Soundwave is already putting together the final legislation. I want you to make your own adjustments to it. Help me helm our people, Jazz.” 

Jazz shook in his arms. This was not what he was expecting. It was far more than he had ever hoped for.

OoOoOoOo

Prowl watched Megatron as the mech carefully put together the playpen for Bluestreak. It was large with extra soft mesh on the bottom, and had a big mobile hanging above it. Little seekers and shuttles sped around just out of Bluestreak’s reach. He finished fastening the last of the sides and placed some of the toys that he had bought him inside. The warlord was spoiling his bitlet, but Prowl could not find it in himself to complain. Bluestreak cooed, and crawled over to Megatron, lifting his hands up he demanded to be picked up. 

The little traitor had clearly already taken sides, and it was clearly not with his carrier. “Up! Up!” 

Megatron bounced him, lifting Bluestreak up high, and making the little sparkling squeal in delight. His little doorwings flapped about happily like the most active of technoflies.

“Up! Up!” 

 

Megatron laughed, and lifted the sparkling up high again, making him squeal in joy. Prowl had never heard him make such noises. It was...humbling, and also spark breaking for Prowl. He could not make his own sparkling happy. 

“He likes you,” Prowl whispered, looking surprised that the words left his mouth. 

“I like him too,” Megatron said. “Always liked sparklings. Never were many in the mines. Not exactly a safe place for sparklings. Not a good place to raise them. One day I had hoped to rise above that, to have a family of my own.” He pulled Bluestreak close, hugging him to his sparkplates. “You are very lucky to have such a precious little one. I envy that. Jazz and I have tried for vorns.” 

“P-perhaps you will be blessed soon,” Prowl said. 

“We will see. I have talked to him about seeing a specialist. I’ve always worried that he injured himself. The first vorn was rough for us both,” Megatron said with far more earnestness than Prowl would have given him credit for. 

“He doesn’t seem like a mech that takes to captivity well,” Prowl said. 

“He is not. If I had a credit for every time I had to go retrieve him in the first vorn I would be a rich mech.” 

“Maybe you should have let him go.” 

“It’s hard to let go of something you love. I cared for him even then. He is very spirited. Smart. Brave. He is everything I value in a mate.” 

Prowl watched him rock Bluestreak, “I don’t understand you...or why you are doing this.” 

“I mean you no harm,” The Warlord finally said. “Why don’t we leave it at that for now.” 

Prowl touched his neck where the slave collar once was. It felt bare and naked. He felt exposed. “So you say. Perhaps I could believe you. I just wonder what you want from me. You want something. You want me to be like Jazz? To go to your berth willingly?” 

“If that was all I wanted I would have swept you off of your peds and seduced you.” 

Prowl raised one brow plate, “You want more?” 

“Are you really ready for me to answer that?” Megatron asked, one side of his mouth curling up into a lopsided grin. 

“Probably not,” Prowl sighed. 

“Mmmmm...well...in time we will speak of it again. When you are ready. And for now...perhaps we should go out. There is a park not far away. I think you and Blue might enjoy it.” Megatron steered him towards the lift, and before Prowl knew it they were stepping out into the street below. It was a short distance to the park Megatron spoke of. There was a large solvent pond full of turbofish, copperkoi and cy-ducks. Bluestreak flapped his hands in excitement when he saw them, and was (overly) enthusiastic when Megatron offered him a bag of pellets to feed them. He flung them far and wide across the pond, but the cyberlife did not seem to mind. They gobbled it down greedily. 

Prowl stayed close as Bluestreak toddled around the pond. Close enough to grab him before he tipped in. They wandered away from Megatron’s side, and Prowl was so distracted that he did not see the mech approach until he was towering over Bluestreak.

“What a cute little mechling, is he for sale. Go get your master, slave.” 

Prowl stiffened, “I’m a free mech. Get away from my sparkling! Get away from him!” 

“You can't possibly be free,” the mechs voice was a high screech to Prowl’s audials. The Seeker’s wings mantled in a threatening manner and he reached for Bluestreak. “I know every Praxian in our army and you are not one of them. Who did you escape from?” 

“What is the meaning of this, Starscream?” 

Prowl turned and as he did the Seeker’s hand streaked out and grabbed Bluestreak from Prowl. “I was just telling this slave I wanted this sparkling. He would be better off with me. Orion would take such good care of him.” 

“Perhaps you should see to that yourself instead of trying to steal other mechs sparklings. Give Bluestreak back to Prowl. Now before I lose all patience and rip your wings from your back.” 

The Seeker’s red optics fell on Prowl, his lips curling into a smirk. “Oh, it’s like that… is it? Jazz not a good enough spike warmer for you?” Starscream looked the white mech up and down, “I suppose he is exactly your...type.” 

Prowl’s wings fluttered, and finally settled into an angry ‘V’, “Are you calling me a whore?” 

“If the plating fits. I suppose I am,” Starscream leered. 

Megatron struck out, grabbing Starscream's wing and wrenching it as he plucked Bluestreak away and placed him into the safety of Prowl’s arms. The sparkling, by some miracle did not seem at all disturbed by the ordeal. 

Megatron crumpled the Seeker’s wing, leaving it hissing and cursing as he lead Prowl away, “I’m sorry. Had I known he would be here I would have taken you elsewhere. Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Is Bluestreak hurt?” 

“No...we are fine.” 

Once they were away from the park megatron knelt in front of Prowl, and checked his plating over, looking for wounds, much to the exasperation of the Praxian. “Are you sure?” 

Prowl gave up trying to wiggle away and finally let the warlord check him over, “I’m positive.” 

“I’m sorry. I’m just sorry. I had hoped our first outing would go well. I want you to feel safe around me.” 

“You protected us. You d-didn’t let Bluestreak be hurt or taken away. I’m grateful for that.” 

“He should never have been put in danger at all,” Megatron growled. 

“Freedom comes with a price. We can’t be safe all of the time. I understand that, and I am...I am grateful for that as well.”

OoOoOoOo

“Heard ya had a bit of a scare,” Jazz said. 

Prowl nodded, his optics lingered on the now bare span of Jazz’s neck. He had not realized the mech had his slave collar removed. “We did, but we made it home safe.” He reached out before he could stop himself and touched Jazz’s neck. “How does it feel to be free?”

“Odd,” Jazz laughed, “Very, very odd.” 

“It suits you though,” Prowl said with a seemingly shy smile. 

“It suits you as well,” Jazz said, reaching out for him. “Beautiful.” 

Prowl ducked his helm, “Don’t say that. I’m not. I’m just...plain.” 

Jazz laughed, “Mech, have you ever looked in a mirror? You’re gorgeous.” He moved closer, touching Prowl’s cheek, “Beautiful. I’m glad you stayed. I don’t think I told you that, but I really am.” 

“Thanks,” Prowl said feeling flustered. “I think...I might be glad as well. Megatron is very good with Bluestreak, and Bluestreak trusts him.” 

“Is that where the bitty is now?” Jazz asked. He was more than a little surprised to see the sparkling gone. 

“Yes, he took him out for the day. To the park, I believe,” Prowl said, trying to stay calm. “It’s harder than I thought to let him go. He’s such a good sparling, and I love him so much.” 

“You’ve both been through a lot. You’re so brave.” 

Prowl shrugged, “I’m not. I’m the farthest thing from that.” He didn’t flinch away when Jazz moved closer or when the mech kissed him gently. He melted into the kiss, engines revving when the kiss deepened and Jazz pulled him close. 

“You are, m’mech. No arguing. You...frag. You helped us fix things that have needed fixing for a long time. A few sols ago when Megsy and I were gone we went to meet with Soundwave to fix the loopholes in the laws already in place. No more selling of sparklings. No separating them from carriers. Any mech that sires a sparkling on their slave will be responsible for them.” 

Prowl froze in his arms, and quivered, “Truly?”

“I saw them sign it into law with my own optics, mech. It’s all because of you,” Jazz gave him a lopsided smile. “You’re amazing. And...I’m glad you agreed to let us court you. You...you’re what we needed.” Jazz kissed him again when he didn’t pull away, softly, gently, carefully. No one had ever treated Prowl like that, not even when he was free.

OoOoOoOo

The gifts started coming soon after and Prowl was not entirely sure what to think of it. He had never had such finely crafted energon treats. They melted on his glossa. Delicious. He had given one to Bluestreak who had managed to smear it all over his faceplates, getting them both completely sticky. 

The crystals that he had received the next sol made his spark ache and reminded him of home. He sat them on one of the shelves in his room and tended to them. When he had been younger he had an arrangement much like this. It was one of the few personal possessions he had owned. His creators had never allowed him much comforts. 

The next sol was datapads, stacks upon stacks of them. Pads with sparkling tales, and learning pads, pads the sparkling could practice drawing on. There were also pads for Prowl as well, rare manuscripts from Praxus. Poetry and treaties on every subject imaginable. They were from the great library in Praxus, that much was clear. It made Prowl’s spark pound to hold them. He had thought all such things were lost, and yet here they sat in his hands. There was pads among them that he would not even been able to read as a commoner, let alone hold in his possession. He wondered if Megatron realized that, or if he had obtained him since they were in Praxian.

The latest gift left Prowl shaking. They were the most exquisitely crafted wing decorations he had ever seen. They were crafted from palladium, garnets, rubies and rough cut diamonds. The chains the held it all together were crafted with platinum, and held beads that had carvings with the glyphs for fidelity, trust, and love. It left him shaking. He had never hoped to have such a beautiful bonding gift. He had always expected it to be something simple. Nothing like this. This was the ornamentation fine enough for a Vosian Prince. 

“Do you like it?” the warlord asked from the doorway. 

“It’s very beautiful,” Prowl whispered. 

“Not as beautiful as you are,” Megatron said. “You are so beautiful. Lovely. Perfect.” 

“You keep saying that, I’m not though,” Prowl said. “I was only an enforcer before. You don’t understand.” 

“I understand, I just think that you deserve beautiful things,” Megatron smiled. “You do like the gifts though? A little bit?”

“I like them a lot...but you don’t have to...I mean...you don’t need to give me gifts,” Prowl shifted from side to side. 

“You deserve to be courted properly, to be wooed,” Megatron said, he took Prowl’s right hand in his own and pressed a kiss to each digit. “You deserve the best.” 

Prowl watched him, his optics brightening, “You really believe that, don’t you. All of it? You cared enough about Jazz to change the laws for him. You are a very strange mech, Megatron. I don’t think I have even encountered anyone like you before.” 

“I will take that as a compliment,” The warlord laughed. 

Prowl tilted his helm to the side, “Take it how you will.” 

Megatron’s lips curled up in amusement, “Would you do Jazz and I the honor of dining with us tonight?” 

“I think I would like that,” Prowl smiled back. 

“Good,” Megatron hummed and motioned for Prowl to follow him.   
Prowl watched him before finally following him. He was starting to see what jazz saw in this mech. It was nice being pampered, and it was nicer still to feel safe.

OoOoOoOo

Jazz was sick again. It seemed to happen like clockwork at the beginning of each sol. Jazz would refuel, and nothing would stay down. He would purge his tank and then some. Prowl knew these signs, but neither Jazz nor Megatron seemed to catch onto what had happened. It left Prowl feeling exasperated. 

“You know you are carrying,” He finally said to Jazz. The mech gave him a confused look at first. 

“What? No...you are wrong. I...are you sure?” Jazz said. 

“Pretty sure. I’ve seen the symptoms often enough. You should see a medic at least. They were concerned that you might have a tough time carrying...didn’t they?” 

“Our spark frequencies are so different. They said it might be vorns before we could synchronize enough to be successful in sparking, and other reasons as well...I suppose. And other reasons. The trauma of....what happened to me. I don’t know. I was beginning to think I had a weak spark, but the medics found nothing wrong with me,” Jazz said. 

“You bonded with him, didn’t you?” 

Jazz squirmed, looking uncomfortable. “We did. Does that bother you?” 

“No, I just think it was probably what you needed. It’s easier to spark when you are bonded. Your spark will synchronize faster.” 

“Maybe,” Jazz said. “You really think I’m---” 

“I do,” Prowl smiled. 

Jazz nodded, and got that look on his face like he was distracted and talking over a comm. “Megatron is on his way. I really hope you're right.” 

“So do I.” 

Megatron came into the room soon after, his field a wild tumult of fear and hope. “I’ve called for the medic. He will be coming here. Just sit down and relax.” 

“I’m fine, Megsy, promise. You don’t have to get all fretful,” Jazz laughed. “I’m not made of glass.” 

“No, you aren’t, but still. Just be calm. It won’t be long,” Megatron purred. 

Prowl watched them with curiosity. Megatron didn’t act anything like his sparkling’s sire. He had been so mad, enraged when he had found out that Prowl was sparked, and it had only gotten worse once the mech’s bonded had found out. Jazz was lucky, and maybe he could be as well. 

Hook and Ratchet showed up a half-joor later, and scanned Jazz. They poked and prodded at him until they finally announced that the mech was, indeed, carrying. 

Prowl had never seen two mechs more overjoyed. He envied them both. It made him want to take Megatron up on his offer. It was so tempting, but something still held him back. A part of him didn’t believe it. A part of him thought it was all an act.

He got close enough to feel their fields though, and felt the raw joy. There was no faking that. There was no faking the way Jazz cried with joy or the way that Megatron held on to him like he was the most precious thing on Cybertron. 

Prowl envied him that love, and felt ashamed of himself for doing so. Jealousy was such an unbecoming emotion. 

“Congratulations,” He finally said, squeaking as he was pulled into their embrace. 

“Thank you, thank you,” Jazz said, holding on to Prowl tightly. “None of this would have happened without you.” 

“I didn’t do anything,” Prowl said, stunned. 

“You did though. You have. You and Blue have brought us closer together. You made me realize that there was more than just my pain, that I’m worth more than that,” Jazz said, and nuzzled into a very confused Praxian. “Thank you.” 

“I think you are giving me credit for things I---I---” 

“Shhh...” Megatron said, and put a digit to Prowl’s lips, “Let us have this.”

OoOoOoOo

Prowl rocked Bluestreak as he sat in the living area. The sparkling was fighting recharge, and finally lost the batter when Megatron plucked him from Prowl’s arms and walked about with him until he finally offlined his optics and his ventilations evened out. 

Prowl didn’t stop watching the mech. It was surprising---to Prowl at least---that he could be so gentle. “He likes you,” Prowl said.

“I know,” Megatron smiled, “He is precious.” 

Prowl nodded, watching the two mechs together. Megatron could almost envelope Bluestreak with a single clawed hand. He was still so tiny. The medic did not think he would even gain as much mass as Prowl. He was healthy, exuberant, but even that could not make up for bad nutrition in his first days. 

“Do you want me to put him to berth?” Megatron asked. 

“Thank you, yes,” Prowl followed them to the nursery, and watched the warlord suck the sparkling in. It was a conundrum. how could such a violent creature be so gentle and thoughtful. He had seen the violence in Megatron, but it had never been directed at him, Jazz or Bluestreak. He hoped it never would be, but there was always that lingering fear for him. Yet he found himself trusting Megatron more and more by the sol. 

That was the farthest thing on his mind some sols later when he felt the first hint of sickness in in his systems. Errors popped up, his vision went to static, and his core temperature spiked. Bluestreak had the same symptoms, only worse. His poor sparkling could not keep any fuel down. 

He watched in horror as Megatron tried to feed him, only to have the sparkling spew the fuel right back up, all over Megatron’s plating. He expected yelling, cursing, but Megatron had only sighed and taken both of them to the washrack. He later carried Prowl there was well, placing him into the cool water of the solvent pool in an attempt to bring down their core temperature. He was still delirious by the time the medic arrived. 

“It’s Rust fever,” Hook announced, “We’ve had fifty cases and counting reach the clinic. I don’t want any of you near Jazz. This sort of sickness could make him lose the sparkling.” 

“We’ve both been inoculated for Rust fever,” Megatron frowned, “Shouldn’t he be okay?” 

“I would rather not risk it. You’ve been exposed, my lord. I fear you will have to be quarantined along with the mechs here. We don’t want this to spread any farther, your Lordship.” 

“No, of course not,” Megatron grunted. “Do you have anything to make them comfortable.” 

“It would be best if we get them both on an energon drip, and add ice to the solvents. We need to keep their temperature down. We don’t want them to overheat. If it gets worse we might need to get them into a CR tank, but I would like to avoid that if possible. I fear, my lord, you are going to just have to wait for the sickness to run it’s course.” 

Megatron frowned sitting back as Hook went to work. He set up an energon drip in both mech’s lines, and his assistant, a little mech named First Aid, brought in bucked at bucket of ice. Bluestreak sprawled, exhausted against Prowl’s chestplates, and Prowl did not look much better.

Megatron finally climbed into the water himself, and pulled Prowl into his arms. The Praxian was exhausted, and rested limply in Megatron’s arms. “Recharge, I’ve got you.”

OoOoOoOo

The sols that passed over the next decacycle were a blur. Prowl’s usually sharp memories were anything but. He drifted in and out of recharge, but Megatron and sometimes Hook, or one of the Medic’s assistants were always present. Sometime he was in the cool solvents, sometimes in the berth wrapped in a heat regulating mesh. He felt weak as a cyberkitten when the fever finally passed, his processor felt blessedly clear finally. 

“How are you feeling?” Megatron asked. 

“Like I’ve been beaten by an Insecticon,” Prowl groaned. “Where is Bluestreak? Is he okay?” 

“He’s fine. He stopped fevering a sol ago. Hook has him at the medical center. They took him there a few sols ago. Hook wanted to monitor him more closely.” 

Prowl fretted, “Are you sure he’s okay? Maybe you can take me to him?” 

“I think it would be best if you rested. I do believe that Hook has the sparkling in a CR tank. He needed a nanite boost, and Hook wants to see if he can reverse some of the damage done to his protoform. He will be well. I promise,” Megatron said. He pulled the mesh up, tucking Prowl in. “Rest.” 

Prowl cracked a smile, “All I have been doing is resting. You stayed with me the whole time?” 

“I did.” 

“You didn’t have to,” Prowl said. 

“No, but I wanted to.”

OoOoOoOo

Time passed slowly. Prowl gained his strength back, and Bluestreak did as well. Megatron hovered over all of them protectively as they recovered, and he fretfully watched Jazz as he moved farther into has carrying cycle. The Warlord was nervous, but Jazz seemed to take it in stride, even when he was ordered on berthrest by Hook. 

Jazz’s plating expanded when the sparkling moved down into his gestation tank. Had anyone asked Prowl he would have said Jazz positively glowed. His happiness was contagious, and Prowl found himself spending more, and more time with the mech. 

Jazz wiggled into a comfortable position. He was nearing the end of his carrying cycle, and it had been a rough one, but Megatron had done everything he could to ease his discomfort. He rested back against the mesh pillows. It eased the pain in his back strut. 

“How are you feeling?” Prowl asked, as he sat on the edge of the berth. 

“Giant,” Jazz laughed, “Sore...and excited. Very excited.” 

“You don’t have long now,” Prowl said, “There is nothing better than holding your sparkling in your arms, at least I always thought so. I remember when I first saw Bluestreak. He made all of the suffering was worth it. And I envy you, I won’t lie. I’ve never seen a sire that is so...devoted. Even before the war and the loss of my home. I never witnessed such a thing.” 

“He would treat you just as well. We’ve both come to care for you,” Jazz said. 

“I know...and I’ve come to care for you too,” Prowl smiled, and put a hand on Jazz’s swollen middle. “I think...I would like to be a family. I would like to take both of you up on what you offer. The both of you would make good co-creators for Bluestreak, and any other sparklings we had. I would like more. It’s safe here.” 

Jazz vented hard, “Mech, you don’t even know how long I’ve hoped to hear that,” he pulled Prowl’s hand to him and kissed his palm gently. “I love you, Prowler.” 

Prowl clenched his hand around the kiss, savouring the warm spot on his palm, “I love you to. Oh, Primus, I love you both.”

OoOoOoOo

Epilogue-

Bluestreak sat back on the couch and held up his arms expectantly, “It’s my turn! I want to hold him!” He was no longer the toddling newspark that Megatron had rescued from the slave market. He was in his third upgrade, and nearly to Prowl’s shoulder. “Please! I’m sitting down, I’m not going to drop him!”

“Not drop him!” Ricochet echoed helpfully from beside Bluestreak. He was a near mirror image of his carrier, and just as cheeky. “Pwease Papa Pwowl! Pwease! Hold brother! Pwease.” 

Prowl sighed, “I know you won’t drop him,” he gently placed Silverstreak into Blue’s arms, and let the little mech hold his new brother for the first time. Bluestreak beamed, and tilted the newspark so Ricochet could reach out and touch him as well. 

“Tiny,” Ricochet gasped, and reached out to touch the newspark. “Mine?” 

Jazz laughed, “Yes he is your brother too, little bit. What do you think of that?” 

Ricochet let out a tiny excited gasp, “Loff him. Tiny! Smalls. More smalls than Rico!”

Bluestreak snickered, and put his arm around Ricochet, “It’s our job to protect him, okay?” 

Ricochet nodded, “‘Kay, Boo. ‘Kay. Loff you too.” 

Prowl knelt before them, looking down at his newest sparkling. He had never thought he would have another one, and yet here he was. “I’m glad you care so much about Silverstreak already. I think both of you will make such good older brothers to him. I’m very proud of you both.” 

“We all are,” Megatron said, and sat on the other side of Bluestreak. “You have both been a great help. We are lucky to have you.” 

Bluestreak looked up at the warlord, “Thank you, papa. We love you too.” 

Jazz snorted, “Well, make yourselves comfortable, Blue and I slaved away all day to make energon treats.” 

“I help!” Ricochet shouted. 

“And Rico too,” Bluestreak giggled, and took a treat as Jazz passed them around. “You should have seen him, ‘Ree. he was covered helm to ped in energon.” 

Prowl smiled, his spark feeling light, “I’ve witnessed his cooking skills first hand, bitty.” He didn’t know how he could be so lucky. Primus must be watching over him, that was all he could imagine. “He is amazing. You are all amazing.” 

“High praise indeed,” Jazz said, and pressed a kiss to Prowl’s cheek. 

Prowl let out a happy little purr, life just did not get much better than this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> title from- http://charlotteeriksson.com/


End file.
